


So, They Breathed

by bearcatkat



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Anxiety, Bipolar Disorder, Everyone Is Gay, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Intrusive Thoughts, M/M, No idea where this is gonna go, Slow Burn, Social Anxiety, Swearing, but i love these characters, first fanfiction in years, happy pride lol, heidi is a godsend, heidi tries so hard, i love my dead gay son, like snails pace slow burn, literally every third word out of connor's mouth is 'fuck', what if connor knew that evan wasn't being manipulative?, what if evan got the chance to explain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-15 00:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11219745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearcatkat/pseuds/bearcatkat
Summary: Evan Hansen wrote a letter to himself that got into the wrong hands. Those wrong hands got really pissed off. Then those hands grabbed Evan's clammy, sweaty ones.AKA what (I think) would have happened if Evan was able to tell Connor the letter at the beginning of the play was an assignment from his therapist.





	1. First Day of Senior Year!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I haven't written anything at all in so, so long... So I apologize that this isn't very polished! I have been MIA from here for a long, long time, sorry. Anyway, most of this chapter is a set-up for the rest of the story, so this chapter will be pretty familiar feeling. I really tried to keep them in character, but if you have any suggestions I would love to hear them. Also, anything in italics are Evan's thoughts. I based them off of my own experience with intrusive thoughts.

Evan clicked 'Print' on the upper corner of his laptop. “Dear Evan Hansen,” it read, “Turns out this wasn’t an amazing day after all. This isn’t going to be an amazing week or an amazing year…”

It’s not how the letter was supposed to go. Evan knew that. He knew that, but he wasn’t able to say anything amazing about the day ahead because nothing would ever feel amazing. It was all scary or blank. Evan wondered if he would ever feel amazing ever again. He wondered if anyone cared that it wouldn’t.

“So. Uh... What happened to your arm?”

Evan turned around, because who on Earth would ask such a thing?

And Evan was utterly shocked to find Connor Murphy’s lanky frame standing before him. He looked timid, almost, his hand gripped to the strap of his messenger bag. _Oh, God, he just asked me a question and here I am just staring at him like an ABSOLUTE freak―_

“Oh, I, um… I f-fell out of a tree, actually.”

“Fell out of a tree?”

“Yeah.” Evan’s voice was a raspy whisper. He tugged at the hem of his shirt, staring at the ground. The fabric was worn from where his finger rubbed over the exact spot, over and over.

“Well, that is just the saddest fucking thing I’ve ever heard, oh my god.” Connor grinned a little, rocking back and forth on his boots.

Evan laughed nervously, fiddling with his shirt again, “I know.”

There was a silence, then. Connor stepped forward a bit and pointed at Evan’s arm. He opened his mouth to say something, but his jaw hung open for a moment, empty. He swallowed and tried again.

“Um, no one’s… No one’s signed your cast.”

“O-oh, I know.”

“Well, I’ll sign it.”

Evan looked up from the ground and into Connor’s eyes. He saw a vulnerability, hidden but familiar. So, so familiar. _You know,_ Evan thought, _he probably just feels sorry for me because no one cares enough to sign my stupid cast anyway and it’s my own fault I have a cast because I'm so stupid―_

“Oh, you, you don’t have to,” Evan gave a brief and polite smile, his voice getting soft.

Connor shrugged, “Do you… have a sharpie?” Evan nodded, slowly, fumbling through his pocket for the marker his mom had given him that morning. He didn’t actually think anyone would use it.  _At least it’ll make Mom happy, I’ll look less like a friendless loser who―_

“Ow,” Evan grimaced as Connor jerked his arm to write.

“Shit, sorry.”

Evan shook his head, grabbing his shirt and toying with it again. Evan watched as Connor wrote his name in what had to be the most massive letters imaginable. His name just…took up the entire cast.

“Oh, great. Thanks.” Evan said feebly.

Connor nodded, closing the sharpie and glancing at his boots, “Yeah, well, now we can both pretend that we have friends.”

Evan looked at Connor and wondered for a moment why Connor approached him in the first place. _Why would he care about me? Why would he be nice to someone like me?_

“That’s, ah... good, good point.” Evan walked over to the printer to retrieve his letter, but the printer was empty. _Oh, oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no―_

“Is, is this yours? I found it on the printer,” Connor squinted, holding the page in one hand and tucking his hair back with the other, “It’s, uh, ‘Dear Evan Hansen,’ that’s your name, right?”

Evan reached for the paper, stuttering, “Oh, oh, yeah, no, it’s just a stupid, it’s just this thing, this, this paper. I had to write, it’s-it’s for an assignment, because there’s―”

“Zoe?”

There was a horrible pause.

“Uh, is… this about my sister?”

Evan felt his voice falter, “No, nonono―”

“You wrote this because you knew that I would find it,” Connor voice went quiet, "Yeah, you, uh, saw that I was the only other person in the computer lab so you wrote this and printed it out so I would find it.”

“W-why would I do that?”

“So I would read some freaky shit you wrote about my sister and fREAK OUT, RIGHT? T-then, then YOU COULD TELL EVERYBODY THAT I’M CRAZY, RIGHT?”

“N-no, I would―” 

“FUCK YOU.” Connor stormed off, bursting through the library doors. Evan followed, hands trembling and sweating and swollen. He stumbled close behind, begging Connor to turn around, to stop for just a moment.

"Oh, no, please, nonono, please I need, need that back, I need it back. I can e-explain, p-please. CONNOR PLEASE IT’S NOT FOR YOU IT’S FOR MY THERAPIST, PLEASE.” Evan crumpled to the linoleum floor, tears bubbling onto his cheeks. _He’s gonna read my letter and know how much of an ugly, broken freak I am and he’s going to tell Zoe, and they’ll laugh at me, they’ll laugh, the whole school will laugh and hate me and think I’m a disgusting freak―_

“Therapist? What the fuck are you talking abo―are you crying?”

Evan shook his head violently, trembling on the floor. The tears seeped through the cracks in his fingers and plopped onto the floor. Evan felt wet and slimy and gross.

“You… I… this really wasn’t to fuck with me?”

Evan shook his head even harder, choking on sobs.

“I’m, Jesus, I didn’t mean to… I didn’t know.”

“I-i-it’s ok-okay,” Evan blubbered, his entire body shaking and trembling and sweating. God, why did he sweat so much? He felt like he was drowning. He couldn’t breathe, his lungs weren’t working anymore. _Oh my god, I’m going to suffocate and drown I’m going to drown in my own sweat and that’s so pathetic why can’t I breathe I can’t breathe―_

“Evan! Evan, hey, listen to me. I need you to breathe slower, okay? You’re making yourself freak the fuck out. You’re not going to die, okay? You can have the weird letter back, it’s going to all be fine, right?”

Evan nodded mindlessly. He kept his eyes tightly shut, trying to slow his breathing down, remembering his therapist’s instructions. _Breathe in for 7, hold for 3, breathe out for 11…_

After what felt like hours, Evan could breathe again, and he finally opened his eyes. Connor was kneeling right in front of him, his eyebrows furrowed.

“You good?”

Evan nodded, trying to swallow, but his mouth was sand. He tried to shift to his feet, but his limbs were wobbly and weak, and his arm slipped. He nearly faceplanted the floor when Connor grabbed his shoulders.

“Gotcha. Here, grab my hand. Don’t try standing so fast.” Evan reached for his hand tentatively, thinking about how wet and slobbery his hand must be. Connor grabbed it anyway and hoisted him up, not saying a word. _Didn’t he notice my hand was sweaty and teary and snotty? That’s so gross, he must think I’m so gross―_

“Let’s go clean you up, okay?”

Connor held on to Evan’s hand.


	2. Bathroom Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan explains. Connor listens and swears a lot. The bathroom is disgusting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW thank you so much for all your love! I read every comment and they were all so nice, thank you! I think Connor was a little OOC in this chapter, but I tried my best!
> 
> ~Enjoy!~

Evan stared at his patchy, ruddy complexion in the bathroom mirror. The harsh, florescent lights yellowed his skin and reflected on the slow-drying tears, making him look sick. Evan desperately wanted a shower. 

 

Evan started washing his hands when he glanced at the boy beside him. Connor, too, was running his hands under the sink. He shut off the water and ran his wet hands through his hair before rubbing them on his jeans. 

 

Evan looked down and splashed some water on his face.  _ He definitely knows you were watching him, he must think you’re so weird for just staring at him especially after he decided to help you _ ―

 

Connor shoved his hand into his pocket, pulling out the notorious letter, “Here, take it back.”

 

Evan wiped his dripping hands on his shirt and reached for the paper, but Connor pulled his hand away.

 

“As long as you fucking explain why you talked about my sister.”

 

Evan nodded vigorously. Connor re-extended the paper back, and Evan gingerly took it into his hands. The paper was neatly folded, if a bit wrinkled. Evan slid it into his pocket.

 

Connor stood, arms folded against his chest. The silence was thick as cotton, and Evan desperately wished he could evaporate because he couldn't think of what to say or how to say it.  _Because once he knows what you wrote in your letter he'll hate you._ Evan shook his head and closed his eyes tightly as he began to force the words out of his mouth.

 

“U-uh. So. I have a lot-lot of a-anxiety? If that w-wasn’t obvious?” Evan tugged and twisted the bottom of his shirt, looking at anywhere but Connors face, “And one-one of the assignments, f-from my therapist? Is to write a-a letter? To myself? ‘D-dear Evan Hansen, t-today’s going to be a great day, and-and here’s why.’”

 

Evan swallowed, his breath hitching as he tried to force out sentences, “S-so today’s letter, you see, today’s letter. It-it’s like, ‘Hey, Evan, it’s not gonna be a great day? Because… Because w-why would it be?’ I uh, I li-like… like. I like h-her. Z-zoe? But, itdoesn’teven matter, because. Because n-nothing I say, uh, nothing I say means anything? Nothing, um, nothing I say matters? So. S-so I can just d-disappear.”

 

Evan stared at the moldy ceiling tiles. One of the fluorescent lights flickered, and Evan’s hands trembled and kept working holes into the hem of his polo. The fabric felt damp from the sweat from his hands, and Evan thought it was gross. He kept staring at the ceiling because it was the least terrifying thing to watch, because every molecule in his body was screaming to run away  _ right now. _

 

“I can't believe you like fuckin’  _ Zoe _ . Like, she’s probably the most obnoxious person on the planet.” Evan dared to look at Connor. Connor was staring at his boots, and his left boot was making little circles in the water that had collected on the floor tiles.

 

“She, um, s-she’s great in jazz band. I saw one of her c-concerts.”

 

“Yeah, she does that, doesn’t she? Plays guitar in her room all the damn time," Connor paused, drumming his fingers against his thigh, “ And, um, you know? You know I’m gonna tease you about liking my lame-ass sister every day, right?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“We have two classes together, right? Uh. AP Literature and biology. I’m gonna tease you about it. ‘Cause she’s lame. It’s my duty as a shitty brother.”

 

“O-oh! Oh. Yeah, we-we have those classes, yes. That’s, yeah? Yes.” Evan internally hit his head against the wall.  _ That genuinely wasn’t a sentence and he must be so ANNOYED right now you absolute _ ―

 

“And it’s not true, you know. The disappearing thing. And, uh, what you say. Matters. Don’t… think stuff like that, okay?”

 

Evan nodded, and Connor looked up and met his eyes. Connor turned and looked in the mirror again, his hands tightly gripping the edges of the sink. 

 

“I’m sorry about getting so pissed… I can’t control it, sometimes, and I just, ah,” Connor ran a hand through his hair.

 

“I get so fucking paranoid that every person is trying to… to. I don’t even fucking know? Prove that I’m a violent fucking freak who should get locked away? They’re right, obviously,” Connor laughed, but it was hollow, “‘Cause look at what I did to you? And you’re shaking like a fucking leaf, but maybe you would tell everyone that I’m a freak and maybe you’d make some friends that way, right?”

 

“N-no! Not at all. I wouldn’t do that to someone.” Evan stepped closer to the boy with the boots, “I understand, though, L-like not being able to control your thoughts.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Y-yeah! That’s, like, every day of my life? And, it’s not your fault that your thoughts just, come? Um, so don’t, don’t beat yourself up for that,” Evan bit his lip, then continued on, “And it’s not right, y-y’know, to say you should get locked away. You are like, the third person to acknowledge my existence today? And you asked to sign my cast, and-and you were so nice when I couldn’t breathe, so? S-so you aren’t a, a freak. And! And if you got locked up, I wouldn’t know someone who’s nice enough to do that.”

 

Connor looked away from the mirror and stared at Evan. He stepped closer, until the two were hardly a foot from each other. Evan trembled.

 

“You still have that sharpie?”

 

Evan nodded, pulling the marker out and handing it to Connor. 

 

“Gimme your hand,” Evan slowly moved his free hand toward Connor, who grabbed it and rapidly wrote something on Evan’s still-damp skin. Connor capped the marker and placed it in Evan’s now-tattooed hand. 

 

Evan looked at the back of his hand and saw a phone number scrawled into his skin. He looked up when Connor lightly punched his shoulder.

 

“Get to class.”

 

Connor started to leave, but stopped when Evan started blubbering, “Oh, no. No, I-I don’t think I can go to class now? I mean, everyone has been in class for like twenty minutes and if I just walk right in they’d  _ stare  _ like, ‘Where the heck has this guy been?’ and the teacher would ask me to stay after class and everyone would be whispering about how  _ weird  _ I am for just walking in late and―”

 

“Woah, there, it’s cool. Don’t fucking go to class, then,” Connor said, setting his hand gently on Evan’s shoulder, “Wanna skip with me, then? I’ve kinda had enough of this today,” Connor vaguely gestured to the space around him. 

 

“N-no, I-I don’t think I could miss the first day of school. If my mom found out she’d just _hate_ me, so. S-so I’m just gonna hide in here until first period ends.”

 

Connor shrugged, “Alright, suit yourself.”

 

Connor slid through the bathroom door noiselessly, but not before saying quietly, “See you around, Hansen.”

 

“Y-yeah. See you around.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments if you think there's any thing I did/didn't do well! I want to make sure I'm being honest to these characters. Also if you notice any typos, bc I'm terrible at editing. Thank you so much for reading!


	3. Sensory Overload

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan ruminates on his interaction with Connor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all! Thank you so, so much for your comments! I read every one and they are so encouraging, I can't tell you how happy they make me. 
> 
> Also, I am sorry for the radio silence over the past few days! I have been stupidly busy with work and personal things, and I haven't had the time or energy to write. I think I may make a posting schedule soon. I'll update you all on that with the next chapter. 
> 
> ALSO, also, sorry this section is so short, I just wanted to get something out there for you all since you've been waiting. I should have another chapter within the next day or so. Hopefully this next one will be nice and lengthy! 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Enjoy!

Leaning against the bathroom wall, Evan waited for the second bell to ring. He’d looked at his American History textbook to pass the time, but the print words slipped and smeared themselves on the page whenever he tried. His thoughts, reeling in the aftermath of his talk with _Connor Murphy_ , refused to stop berating him with analyses of very word and gesture of their brief, but _strange_ conversation.

 

Evan beat his head softly against the brick wall. He wished he could stop thinking for a few moments, but his brain refused to relent. _Why’d he give me his phone number? What if it’s some kind of horrible prank? What if he tells the whole school I had a panic attack in the hallway? Why would he say ‘see you around’? What does that mean? Does he want to hang out with me? He asked me to skip with him_ ― _what does that mean? Why was he being so nice?_

 

_Does he want to be my friend?_

 

Evan thought on that for a moment. He couldn't recall the last time someone reached out to be his friend, at least not of their own choice. For Jared, it was a sense of familial (and economic) obligation. Evan knew this because Jared reminded him of that fact any time Evan made a reference to their being ‘friends’. They were ‘family friends’, which was different, apparently. Jared _had_ to be nice.

 

_What if it’s the same way with Connor? Maybe he just feels bad for me? Maybe he just feels guilty… why would anyone want to be friends with Evan Hansen? Why would anyone want to be friends with a nobody?_

 

The bell indicating the end of first bell violently shook Evan from his thoughts. Evan jumped at the sudden break from the silence, as the only sounds he’d heard in the past hour were the occasional drops of water and his irregular, hitched breathing. Evan berated himself for his skittishness. Gathering his books, Evan shuffled into the crowded hallway, the noise of chatter and squeaking sneakers overwhelming his senses.

 

Standing near the wall, Evan closed his eyes. The noise and movement and bright lights closed in, crawling into his skin and his ears and his nose. Casual conversations and footsteps and the creaky sounds of opening door, overlapping and amplifying themselves, wrapped around his ears and screamed. Evan felt the familiar dryness of his throat, the way his lungs seemed to collapse in on themselves. His hands, wet and numb, started shaking.

 

 _Not again. Not today._ Evan leaned against the wall, hoping against hope he could calm his breathing before the anxiety squeezed the life out of him again. He remembered the breathing exercises― _breathe in 7, hold 3, out 11_ ―but the overwhelming amount of _sound_ remained. Evan thought of the woods, of his favorite trees he climbed over the summer. He thought of the hydrangeas in his backyard, their soft blues and tiny petals. He then, suddenly, recalled the way Connor’s hand had felt on his shoulder. Gentle, surprisingly so, yet still strong and unwavering. It was soft and protective all at once.

 

Evan opened his eyes, keeping his breaths controlled. The hallway had largely cleared out, a few students still shuffled quietly to class. It was quieter now.

 

Realizing his lateness, Evan scurried in the direction of his AP Literature class.

 

Evan wondered if Connor liked _The Great Gatsby_ as much as he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm going to incorporate the different meanings of flowers in this fic. 
> 
> So, for hydrangeas...
> 
> "Hydrangea symbolizes heartfelt emotions. It can be used to express gratitude for being understood. In its negative sense hydrangea symbolizes frigidity and heartlessness. First discovered in Japan, the name hydrangea comes from the Greek “hydor,” meaning water, and “angos,” meaning jar or vessel." (thesecretlanguageofflowers.wordpress.com)
> 
> "[T]hese plants require a lot of water. However, too much water can kill them." (https://www.ftd.com/blog/share/hydrangea-meaning-and-symbolism)
> 
> This... seems like the perfect flower for these boys... at least, I think so. What are y'all's thoughts?
> 
> Thanks again for reading!!!


	4. An Optimistic Outlook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan asks his closest friend and his mother for advice about Connor's odd behavior, but the story gets away from him, as stories tend to when they're being told by Evan Hansen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY FOR THE DELAY!!! My job had me working crazy hours. But, to compensate... this chapter is the longest yet! Granted, it's a lot of dialogue, but the story kinda gets rolling here. We also have a guest appearance from The Insanely Cool Jared Kleinman, and from Best Mom Heidi Hansen. 
> 
> I've decided that I will be posting every TUESDAY from now on. Those are my most free days and it should be easy for me to get out a polished chapter every week. I may post more frequently if I have time to write!
> 
> Thank you for all your support!!! Enjoy~

Evan had been staring at his phone for almost a half hour. The blankets on his bed were wrapped around his feet, and textbooks and pieces of paper lay littered on his floor. Evan had made an attempt at homework, but his mind was stuck on Connor Murphy and the number he left scrawled on Evan’s hand. The number was typed into his phone, but all Evan could do was stare helplessly at the blinking bar in the empty message box. Saying “hello” was too formal, and “hi” made him sound like he was eight years old. “Hey” seemed like the best option―except for the fact it made him sound so aloof, and Evan wasn’t cool enough for that.

 

Sighing, Evan scrolled back through his conversation with Jared, chewing his fingernail and hoping to find some kind of answer there that could help him figure out what to say.

 

Jared had been shocked (maybe more so than necessary) about Evan’s conversations with Connor.

 

 **Evan:** Hey, Jared, can I talk to you?

 

 **Jared:** thats the point of you having my number, right?

 

 **Evan:** Oh, of course! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you with annoying questions. Have a good night.

 

 **Jared:** evan. buddy. i was just being a dick. whats up?

 

At this point, Evan relayed the entire morning―Connor pushing him to the ground, Zoe apologizing, Connor’s talk with him in the library, the panic attack, the phone number―in a lengthy text, which Evan then apologized profusely for.

 

 **Evan:** I’m so sorry. That’s so much to say in one message Im sorry

 

 **Evan:** and I just keep sendng you things I ‘m really soery

 

 **Jared:** dude if you think there is ever a time my gay ass doesnt appreciate a shit load of tea then you are sorely mistaken

 

 **Jared:** i cant believe you got connor’s number, tho. AND zoe ~talked~ to you. now youre gonna wet dream about both murphy siblings, arent ya???

 

 **Jared:** thats pretty kinky, evan.

 

 **Evan:** nonononoonnon

 

 **Jared:** HA. okay, but seriously. for whatever reason he wants to talk to you, and thats weird shit. connor might be the scariest guy at our school, he’s like, constantly pissed. he doesn’t talk to anyone, at least not that ive seen.

 

 **Jared:** maybe if you talk to him he won’t kill you as hard when he shoots up the school

 

 **Evan:** Hilarious, Jared.

 

 **Evan:** I don’t think he’s like that, really. He seemed really genuine when he talked to me, liked he cared. Even if he is really angry, I think he might just be going through a lot. Besides, I don’t talk to anyone at school, and I don’t think that makes me a dangerous person.

 

 **Evan:** I have absolutely no idea what to do about the phone number, though.

 

 **Jared:** text him, doofus

 

 **Jared:** i mean, i still think hes really fuckin nutty, and i honestly think you should probably keep your distance, but do what your ~heart~ tells you―ALSO i fucking talk to you at school dumbass

 

 **Evan:** How do I start a conversation with him?? What am I supposed to say?

 

 **Jared:** well, “hello” is generally the accepted way to greet someone, but you could always go with a green day quote

 

 **Evan:** A what?

 

 **Jared:** did you not have an emo phase in middle school? poor child.

 

 **Jared:** shit, gotta go. have fun talking to your tall, dark, and scary boyfriend

 

 **Evan:** bye also please stop omg

 

 **Jared:** also. so, if you ever like freak out or whatever at school, or wherever, you can always text me or something. my poor little honda’s insurance needs you to keep breathing, yknow

 

 **Evan:** Right, thanks

 

That last text was one Evan stared at his entire walk home. It was difficult to tell what exactly Jared said was genuine, and Evan couldn’t tell if Jared felt like he was supposed to say that, or if Jared would actually want to help if Evan had another panic attack at school. Shrugging to himself, Evan sighed and assumed it probably meant the latter.

 

But now, Evan’s mind was focused on the phone number printed on the back of his hand. Every time he typed a few words out, he would retype and erase until the message was blank again. Evan groaned and stuffed his face into the pillows on his bed. _This is hopeless. He’s probably waiting for me to say something and I can’t even get out a simple hello and he’s gonna think I hate him and then he’s gonna hate me and I’m such a loser_ ―

 

“Evan, honey? You home?”

 

“Y-yes! In my room.”

 

Evan heard the familiar jangle of keys hitting the dish on the dinner table, the thump of a heavy backpack hitting the floor, the shuffle of his mom’s tired feet walking toward his room. Evan quickly nabbed a book from the floor and opened it on his lap, pretending to read. It was a book detailing how to take care of a variety of different kinds of flowers that he’d picked up from Half Price Books a few weekends ago. The pictures inside were beautiful, at least to Evan, and he wanted to give his hydrangeas company. He flipped the books open to the page he’d stuck a post-it note on―the page on Jonquils, better known as daffodils. Evan thought the yellow flowers would nicely compliment his light blue hydrangeas.

 

Quickly stuffing his phone under his blanket, Evan held the book in his hands and waited. He knew that if his mom came in while he was in his phone, she would ask a barrage of questions about who he was talking to and about _what._ Evan did not want to try and talk about Connor with his mother. It’d be much easier to keep that situation to himself.

 

There was a gentle knock on his door, followed by a soft, “Can I come in, sweetie?”

 

“Yeah,” Evan replied and turned to look at his mom walking in. Her hair was in a ponytail, and she was wearing jeans and a thin, well-worn t-shirt. It was the first time Evan had seen her out of her scrubs in a while.

 

“Hey, honey! How’s it going? How was school?” Heidi asked, walking over to Evan to give him a quick side hug.

 

Evan licked his lips, “P-pretty normal, really.”

 

“Yeah? Do you like your classes so far this year? Are you excited about that fancy English class?”

 

“AP Literature. It’s really, uh, it’s really interesting, but the teacher assigned a book in the first week? So that’s stressful, even though I like the book so far.”

 

“Ah, is that what you’re reading?”

 

“N-no, I’m done with the assigned reading. I read at lunch. This is, uh―remember that time I went to the bookstore before school started? I got this book about flowers, and, and I really want to plant some more flowers sometime. I was thinking about these?” Evan pointed to the open page, looking to his mother. She smiled brightly, clasping her hands together.

 

“Aw, Evan, those are so pretty. I love ‘em. I’m so glad you’ve found something you love doing. That’s so important, you know?” Heidi nodded, then gently bumped into Evan’s shoulder with her hip, “And you’re making our house look so darned pretty.”

 

“Thanks, mom.”

 

Evan knew his mom didn’t really understand plants, really. She had a notoriously black thumb. Nevertheless, her enthusiasm was nice. _But probably fake, because no one likes plants except me, because I’m a weird freak and a burden and Mom probably has higher water bills because of me and my plants_ ―

 

Heidi's smiled brightly at her son, but the grin fell as she sighed, “Sweetie, I’m really sorry, but I got called in to work tonight. I left pizza money, but I know how you get, so there’s also some leftover pasta in the fridge. But, y’know! Feel free to try the pizza thing!”

 

Evan nodded, looking intently at his book.

 

“Honey, I’m sorry. I was planning on being here tonight,” Heidi gestured at her clothes, “I was gonna grab Chinese takeout, get a movie from Family Video, the works! But, uh, they had a bunch of call offs today and I gotta go in. I’m sorry. But, if you need me, I’m only a phone call away! Or text. Whatever you’re more comfy with.”

 

Heidi set her hand gently on Evan’s shoulder and squeezed before turning around to leave. The gesture reminded Evan of what Connor did earlier in the bathroom. Scraping together his courage, Evan decide to pose a question to his mother.

 

“Uh, uh. M-mom?”

 

Heidi turned around, “Yeah, sweetie?”

 

“S-so, say I wanted to talk to someone… like, over email? Or something? But, but, I don’t know them all that well. W-what am I supposed to say when, um, when I email them for the first time?” Evan looked down at his hands as he felt his face grow heart.

 

He hated the feeling of keeping the truth from his mom (it wasn’t really _lying,_ right?), but he had no idea how he could explain his interaction with Connor without making his mom more stressed than she already was. She would need to see the letter he wrote, and she would know he had a panic attack again, and that someone pushed him at school. No, no, it was much easier if his mom though everything was okay. _Otherwise, I’m just more of a burden to her, and she’ll just resent me more than she already does. That's why she’s never home_ ― _really she just hates me and wishes I was gone so she could live her own life and_ ―

 

“Well, you gotta say ‘hi,’ of course you know that. I don’t know, you could always ask them something about their day? Just seeing what someone has been up to all day is a good way to make conversation,” Heidi tilted her head and tucked her thumbs into her pockets, rocking back and forth a little, “Are ya talking to someone?”

 

Evan waved his arms, “Nonono, just wondering, youknowlike if I got a pen pal or something someday because that might happen and I―”

 

“Oh, my, Evan! Someone signed your cast! That’s exciting! Who’s this _Connor_ ?”

 

“N-nobody, he, uh, he’s just a guy a-at school,” Evan mentally kicked himself for flailing his arm around, because now he’s have to explain the whole horrible situation to his mother, and she would look so _disappointed_ ―

 

“Are you sure? Is he your friend?”

 

_Or maybe not._

 

“Uh,” Evan glanced at the ceiling, “Y-yeah. Yeah. Kind of―I mean, it’s like, an acquaintance?”

 

Heidi beamed, tilting her head to look at her son fondly, “Oh, Evan, sweetie, that’s wonderful! I’m so happy you found someone that’s there for you! What’s he like?”

 

“Oh-oh! Yes, um, h-he’s… tall. And has h-hair, that’s long? And s-shiny, butlikenot in a greasy way? Like he p-probably uses conditioner? Uh,  um, he likes… music? And reading! He is a, a reader! A-and, and, w-we like to t-talk about books we’ve read? Like, you k-know? Our own mini book club, o-or something…” Evan trailed off, peeling the skin from his nails as he watched his mother’s face grow increasingly more delighted. He couldn’t help but keep up the farce once he saw that Heidi was so excited―she always had such a sad look in her eyes whenever Evan ~~avoided the subject of~~ talked about his social life. But now… Now she looked happy.

 

So, Evan fed her details. They were general, based in absolute stereotypes of what Connor wore to school and the few details Evan knew about him from sharing classes in years past. The narrative practically built itself―they were school friends, who shared a few classes and had started to bond over a mutual appreciation of reading. They became closer, sharing small pieces of writing, writing short poems and miniature stories together in the library before school. They emailed transcripts of the things they’d written outside of school to each other, mutually benefiting from each other’s writings. So, then, of course Connor signed the cast of his "writing buddy" once school started.

 

“Evan I can’t believe you haven’t mentioned him before! He sounds wonderful. You have to invite him for dinner!”

 

“Oh, M-mom, I don’t think―”

 

“Nope! No ifs, ands, or buts, mister! You’re gonna have a great night with your friend. I’m off Thursday, why don’t I order pizza and rent some movies and you two can have a boy’s night, huh? And then I can meet this buddy of yours!”

 

“B-but―”

 

“No buts! I am―oh, jeez! I’m late for work!” Heidi said as checked her phone, before sprinting down the hall to her room. Evan heard the clatter of drawers being heaved open and of his mother tripping into the hallway as she slipped on her sneakers.

 

“Okay, honey, I gotta jet,” Heidi popped in to Evan’s room to give him a quick kiss on his forehead, “Make sure to tell Connor about our mandatory night of fun at the Hansen house, yeah?”

 

Evan nodded bleakly as his mom grinned and jogged down the stairs. Heidi called a final, frenzied goodbye before slamming the door behind her.

 

Evan smacked his phone into his forehead.

 

_Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used the jonquils suggestion for ~hidden flower meaning~ from Houndoom125 on the last chapter! Thank you for that! 
> 
> I think it suits them:
> 
> "The bright yellow or white is beautiful in its own right but especially since they signal the arrival of spring. Also known as daffodils and a little less so, as narcissus, these flowers can be used to brighten up a home by placing them into a vase or even as a potted window plant. The meaning of this flower is twofold. One meaning is that of desire and another is domestic bliss as well as friendship."  
> (http://www.vancouverflorist.com/jonquil.aspx)
> 
> Will Evan tell Connor about his fake story?? Has he doomed his only potential friendship that isn't Jared?? 
> 
> Also can I just say that I absolutely love Heidi Hansen and I want her to adopt me? And like, she totally would if I asked? She's amazing, Best Mom Ever™. 
> 
> Thank you all for your support!!!
> 
> Also, follow me on Tumblr!
> 
> personal blog: http://bearcatkat.tumblr.com/
> 
> art blog: http://garnet-senpai-notice-me.tumblr.com/


	5. Impulsive Texts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan texts Connor. (Finally.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhhhhhh I'm so sorry this is LATE
> 
> my weekend was really horrible, a lot happened and I kind of had an emotional breakdown and it was just a really rough past few days
> 
> nevertheless, I knew I had to get something out, so.... here! it's horribly short and not very good but I'm going to try and get out another chapter this week so hopefully??
> 
> sorry again everyone :(
> 
> thank you so much to all who leave kudos and comments!!! and thank you to all my readers!!! bless you all I love y'all
> 
> enjoy!

**Evan:** Hi, Connor, how was everything today?

 

Evan squealed into his pillow as soon as he hit ‘send’. He’d deliberated what to say to Connor for almost an hour―he never texted anyone except Jared and his mom, and he hardly knew Connor.

 

Evan sighed. _And now I have to somehow explain that my mom thinks we’re ‘writing buddies.’ Stupid, stupid, Evan._

 

What was worse was how _giddy_ his mom had looked when he talked about Connor. Guilt curled into Evan’s stomach, heavy and rough as stone. She was so happy about a lie. _But think of how much the truth would hurt her_ ― _if she knew it was all a lie, she’d hate me._

 

 _Ping._ Evan’s phone vibrated and lit up, illuminating the half of Evan’s face that wasn't buried in his pillow. Flinching at the noise, Evan shot up, sitting on his knees. Hesitantly, he unlocked his phone.

 

 **Connor: ‘** twas boring as shit, my dude.

 

Evan snorted a laugh at that, despite himself. He looked down as his phone buzzed again.

 

 **Connor:** how was your day at the local shit hole?

 

 **Evan:** I'm guessing you mean school?

 

 **Connor:** yeah. i was trying to be witty, but obviously that didn't land well

 

 **Evan:** Nonono it was funny I mean I laughed

 

 **Evan:** And, it went okay. Would you like your notes for AP Literature? We are about halfway through The Great Gatsby. Biology was boring, we watched a video so you didn't miss very much. I'm sure I can help you find other notes for your classes.

 

 **Evan:** Not saying that you need my help I mean you probably know other people in your classes that would be better that was sstupid of me t to suggesct

 

 **Connor:** no, no, you're right. i keep to myself.

 

 **Connor:** don't worry about the notes, i never really use them. i just sorta… wing it and hope for the best, usually?

 

 **Connor:** but, thanks for the thought. that's cool

 

Evan realized he was white-knuckling his phone. He set the device down, rubbing his palms on his jeans. Evan looked around the room, hoping something could give him an idea for conversation.

 

 _The Great Gatsby_ , the cover folded and worn, sat forlornly atop a pile of disorganized folders and notebooks.

 

 **Evan:** This is probably a really stupid question but do you like to read? Because you're in AP Literature and I notice you reading in the library a lot so I just was wondering because I like to read too I mean mostly books about flowers and trees but I still really like to read so I was wondering if you did also.

 

 **Connor:** you text. EXACTLY. like you talk. 

 

 **Connor:** but, yeah, i like to read. i’m trying to get through some of the classics right now, but i was a huge fantasy fan when i was a kid. i just finished the old man and the sea, and i really want to read moby dick next. 

 

Evan asked what kinds of fantasy books he liked to read, and Connor admitted his adoration of the Harry Potter books when he was younger. He asked Evan about his interest in trees, and Evan explained his job at the park over the summer. After a while, they were chatting comfortably.

 

Evan smiled, curled up against his pillow, as his fingers tapped at his phone. His chest felt warm. Evan, for the first time in years, felt as though he was making a friend. A real, not “family” friend.

 

 _Maybe he’s just pitying me. He probably hates talking to me but just feels so bad since I cried in his arms and looked absolutely disgusting_ ―

 

“Shut up,” Evan muttered, shaking his head. The voice in his head was usually domineering, driving out the rational. But, this time Evan really tried to ignore his anxiety—it would still whisper horribly things, but Evan forced it fade into background noise.

 

 **Connor:** anyway, what are you up to right now?

 

 **Evan:** I'm just at home. I think my mom wanted me to order pizza but I really hate talking to strangers at the door so I probably am just gonna go to sleep

 

 **Evan:** I mean not right now obviously it's like 9 and we are talking and I'm not even that tired but like later because I like talking to you

 

Evan let out an inhuman wail as he buried his head into his pillow again, because who _SAYS_ things like that to someone he barely knows and―

 

 **Connor:** i like talking to you too

 

 **Connor:** your parents aren't home?

 

 **Evan:** My mom usually works late shifts or has classes, so I'm usually by myself. I don't mind the quiet.

 

That was a lie. Evan hated when the house wasn't making any noises—it was _creepy._ He usually played music really loudly and shut himself in his room so he could pretend the house wasn't such a massive, silent, empty _void._

 

 **Connor:** man, what i’d give to have the house to myself. my parents drive me actually fucking crazy

 

 **Connor:** correction: are currently driving me fucking crazy.

 

 **Connor:**...wanna get milkshakes? i’m buying?

 

Evan bit his lip. He'd never been out late before—what if his mom got worried? He would have to tell her, and what if she got mad?

 

But, what if Connor wouldn't want to be his friend if he said no? What if this was his only chance to make an actual friend?

 

Evan nibbled on his thumbnail, his brows furrowed as he stared at his messages.

 

 **Evan:**  Do your parents mind?

 

 **Connor:** ehh. doesn't matter. i’ll come pick you up.

 

 **Evan:** I can’t be out very late I don’t think.

 

 **Connor:** nevermind it was stupid to ask, i barely know you, forget it

 

 **Evan:** nonono that isn’t what I meant I just get worried about being out really late because my mom can get freaked out and it’s more dangerous to drive at night but I think it would be fun to get milkshales if you still wanted to but I understtand if you don’’ t I wouldnt wan tto with me eitheerdr

 

Evan gripped his phone tightly in his hands, staring at his frantically sent green bubble. _Nice job, you’ve ruined another chance at a friendship. As if anyone would want to be friends with me anyway. No one likes sweaty, gross, weirdo Evan Hansen_ —

 

_Ping._

  
**Connor:** what’s your address?


	6. Evening Drive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan and Connor drive around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAanother update!! I got inspired and I feel okay today so... I wrote a bunch!
> 
> also, I listened to dodie's '6/10' and Mogwai"s 'Kids Will Be Skeletons' while writing this section, in case you wanna listen to my inspiration~
> 
> (the studio version of 6/10 came out yesterday and I just. WOW. it's beautiful please go give it a listen if you like soft music!! I actually cried it's so beautiful??)
> 
> Thank you so much to those of you who subscribe and who leave sweet comments and kudos. It really, really brightens my day, especially when you all are understanding of my mental health and are so supportive and kind. I feel like we are all in this big ol', online friend group and I really appreciate every one of you so much!!

Evan sat on his couch, spine straight and eyes staring solely at the door. His hands perched on his knees like small song birds, trembling and shifting in place. Otherwise, Evan was entirely motionless.

 

He’d changed his shirt five times, because what if Connor thought he only had two shirts and that he didn’t shower or change his shirt when he got home? Evan didn’t want to be gross. But every one he changed into had something wrong with it (t _his one is too formal, this one might make me sweaty, red makes me look blotchy and gross)_ , and Evan inevitably settled on a dark blue button up. He rolled up the sleeves and hoped he didn’t look weird.

 

_Ping._

 

Evan scattered, grabbing his phone and bouncing it in his hands before it slipped and hit the floor. He scrambled to pick it up again, tapping the power button to see a brief message from Connor to let Evan know he was outside. Evan let out the air he’d accidentally been holding and forced himself to his door. Grabbing a spare key from the dish bedside the door, Evan walked outside.

 

He couldn’t make out much in the darkness, but he could see Connor’s grinning face through the windshield of a car that looked like it was from the 80s. It was definitely not the nice, expensive car Evan was expecting—he was sure the Murphy’s were a relatively well-off family, and he was certain they could afford Connor a nicer car.

 

Evan figured he wouldn’t ask.

 

Connor waved at Evan in a _‘please get in the damn car’_ sort of way, and Evan realized he’d just been standing dumbly on his front porch. Clambering past a few rusted lawn chairs and empty flower pots, Evan hopped into Connor’s car, accidentally slamming the door behind him.

 

Evan flinched, squeezing his eyes shut. He slowly dared a glance at Connor.

 

The light from the streetlamp illuminated the wisps of hair erupting from his curly mess of hair, the strands glimmering in a pseudo-halo around his head. He half smiled, bunching his eyebrows in confusion at Evan’s wide eyes. Evan wasn't sure why, but something about Connor’s… _face_ was just mesmerizing.

 

“You can be gentler on the door, y’know.”

 

“O-oh! I'm so s-sorry that was really careless of me, Ishouldhave been—”

 

“Evan. It's okay.”

 

“Oh.”

 

They stared at each other for a moment, the gentle static from the radio sizzling beneath the silence.

 

“Right,” Connor looked at the steering wheel, sniffing before he put the car in reverse and rolled out of the driveway.

 

Evan studied his hands. They were very soft and kind of stubby, if he was being honest with himself. They looked like a child’s hands, round and smooth, but his mom always said they were the hands of an artist.

 

_“When your hands are smooth like that, it won't smudge the ink so much!” Heidi tapped Evan on the nose with her finger._

 

_“Nuh-uh. T-that's just a n-nice thing to s-s-say to make my h-hands less s-s-stup-pid.”_

 

_“Oh, honey,” Heidi grabbed Evan's face with both of her hands, “Don't you say things like that about yourself. Every part of you is there for a reason! And it's lovely just the way it is.”_

 

_“S-s-sure.”_

 

_“Sorry, kid, it's just the truth! And I think you're just going to have to start drawing, kiddo, ‘cause you've got an artist's hands!”_

 

Evan remembered how horrible his stutter was back then. He got made fun of in middle school for it, effectively shutting him up for the foreseeable future. It improved, slowly, and the stutter only came out when he was nervous.

 

Which, ironically, was constantly.

 

Evan did start drawing, eventually. When he had his job at the park, he drew landscapes of the hallways of trees, of sunlight seeping through branches, of bleeding sunsets and the shards of night sky that peeked through the holes in the canopy. He always had watercolor pencils and ink pens tucked into his backpack, and he would draw at any free moment. It was the second most calming thing to him, right under just _being_ at the park.

 

“You're thinkin’ really fucking hard, Hansen.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Whatever the fuck is on your mind, I can hear the little gears turning in your head.”

 

“Oh. I'm sorry.”

 

“I don't mind, I just think you need to fuckin’... relax or something. What kind of music do you listen to?”

 

“Oh! Um. I-I really like instrumentals? To like, games and movies and stuff? A-and uh, just… soft things? Too much noise and I g-get nervous.”

 

“So no screamo, then?”

 

“U-unfortunately not, I'm a-afraid,” Evan shrugged, “But to be f-fair, p-pretty much everything d-does that? Which is a pretty b-boring character trait if you ask me.”

 

“Nah. It's better than 'angry emo kid with a tragic backstory’. Now that's—that's fuckin’ basic.”

 

They glanced at each other, and burst into soft giggles. Evan covered his mouth and watched the way Connor threw his head back when he laughed. It was like every emotion he had was huge, explosive. Connor was a kaleidoscope of every color imaginable, and Evan felt grey in comparison.

 

“Okay, okay, but. Um. I think I have something you might like? It's a soundtrack to a video game I played a while back—all the songs are really mellow and nice. Good driving songs, actually.”

 

Evan nodded in response, and Connor pulled his phone out at a red light and started playing the soundtrack.

 

Gentle guitar chords and the hum of stringed instruments washed over Evan. Something about it was nostalgic, a bit sad, but it was also soothing and soft. Evan closed his eyes and let his thoughts bob away into the ebb and flow of sound. He didn't open his eyes again until he felt a gentle shove to his shoulder.

 

“Hey, Ev, we're here,” some gentle voice called to him from beyond. Evan opened his eyes and looked up at a concerned Connor.

 

“Damn, I didn't mean to bore you to sleep.”

 

“I wasn't bored. Just very… calm,” Evan replied, sitting upright.

 

“Oh,” Connor replied, his jaw slack.

 

“M-milkshakes, right?”

 

“Y-yeah. Let's fuckin’, let's fuckin’ go.”

 

Evan gave a small nod as he peeled himself from the seat and left the car, making note to close the door more gently this time. Connor strode beside him, hands tucked in his pockets. The two boys shared a glance before heading inside the dusty Dairy Queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really want them to smile and giggle together and be BUDDIES 
> 
> fun fact #1) the thing about Evan's hands is based off of something my friends dad used to say to her—she has very soft and chubby hands and I think it's really cute and Evan would have them too
> 
> fun fact #2) the soundtrack that I had in mind that Connor played was the Life is Strange soundtrack. good shit. very soft and calming.
> 
> again, let me know if you think anything needs fixing! I have a difficult time writing Connor since I'm not an angry person in the slightest—like you could probably punch me in the face and I'd apologize to you hahahhahaha sO
> 
> I know this is kind of slow moving, but I think that's just the way I write? I kind of overembellish on every little detail—this chapter especially. I kind of went a bit more poetic with it than usual.... how do you all like it? Let me know in the comments!
> 
> thank you for reading!


End file.
